Grayson
. . .
FORTY-FIVE
Moretti pulls his car behind the gala. We are out of town in some swanky city full of fancy people and even fancier cars. It’s everything I can’t stand to be around.
“Tell me the plan one more time,” he says.
I sigh, tampering my temper. I’m out for blood tonight. It’s past time this tyrant and his two goons are removed from ever hurting another person. “We’ve been over this four times already.”
“And number five will mean it's locked in your brain. If even one thing goes wrong tonight, it’s not just your life on the line. It’s mine, the Foxes’, your sister’s, Maisie’s. Just because she’s in a different state doesn’t mean she’s untouchable.”
My teeth grind. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I’m not saying that, but I want to be crystal clear to give us the best odds at making it out of here alive.”
“Get in, get out, wait for your signal before I strike. I’ll know when the time comes.
The poker room is in the west wing behind the kitchen.
Stay to the shadows so no one sees me. The poker room is heavily guarded, so I’ll need to dispatch them quickly and quietly before going in.
There will be about five men in the room with Matteo—leave the rest alone.
Immediately return to the car after I’m done and wait for you before we Fast and Furious style it out of here. Did I miss anything?”
“That should do it, smart ass.” He punches me in the shoulder.
“And where are you going to be in all of this? Seems like you drew the easy straw.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m the distraction, and I have other motivations for coming tonight.”
I don’t ask him further questions. I’m ready to get this over with.
We enter through the back door, taking a long, dark corridor towards the loud music. We are both strapped to the nines with weapons hidden under our tuxes, including bulletproof vests. We slow when we approach the main hall.
“Wait for my signal,” Moretti repeats, splitting off in the opposite direction. I stay put, mapping out the best route to the poker room. Unfortunately for me, it looks like the kitchen is my best bet.
A server walks by with a tray of drinks.
She sets it down to adjust her apron, and I swoop it up before she notices.
The double kitchen doors swing open, and I take my shot, slipping inside.
The kitchen is complete chaos. Staff run around like chickens with their heads cut off.
I skirt around an anxious worker with the tray in my hand, pretending I’m on my way out the other side.
A man who looks in charge stops me by my shoulder. “Are you headed to section B? They look short staffed.”
“Uhh, yup. I was actually headed there right now.” He gives me a firm nod, and I scramble away. I see another set of doors pointing west and pray it leads me to the right spot. I drop the tray on a counter and slip out the door.
A long, dark hallway opens, with sounds of men joking around behind a closed door. Bingo. There looks to be two guarding the door down a hallway to the right when I peek around the corner. Easy enough.
Moretti told me all of Matteo’s guards were worthless pieces of shits, and it would be a mercy to off them. I’m not sure I’m ready for more blood on my hands than necessary, but if it comes down to it, I’ll do what I have to.
A plan forms in my head, and my feet are moving. I creep down the hallway while the guards bullshit to the right. First step in my plan: get rid of these assholes so when the signal comes, I can go balls to the walls.
I pull out a tin of mints from my pocket, dropping a few into my hand. The hallway in front of me leads to another room. I press my back flush with the wall and chuck the mints towards the other door. They clack against the marble, sliding to the end.
I ready myself when the two guards shuffle closer. When they turn right down the hallway in front of me, I pounce. I stab the one closest to me with a sedative, draining it in his neck. He falls to the ground immediately.
The second man won’t be as easy, since I've lost the element of surprise. He rushes at me, ramming my back into the wall. I see stars, but I came prepared. I slip the switchblade from my waist and shove it into his stomach, pushing him off me. I somehow avoid getting any blood on my suit.
He stumbles back a few steps, reaching for his phone. “You’re gonna regret that, you gutter rat. I can’t wait to see them skin you alive,” he wheezes.
Fuck. I didn’t want to take it this far, but he can’t go blabbing about me to the rest of the goons.
I slip my gun from the back of my pants and press the suppressor to his forehead.
I pull the trigger without hesitation. This time, I do get fucking blood on me.
A lot of it. The man's head splatters across my face, and as soon as I feel something hit my lip, I bend over and dry heave.
Taking them both out was relatively quick and quiet; it seems I haven’t disturbed anyone inside the room.
It turns out the door at the end of the hall where my mints landed is a bathroom.
I slip inside, wiping as much blood off me as possible.
It’s a good thing I picked an all-black suit tonight like Moretti suggested. Good for hiding blood, he said.
Yeah, no shit.
I make sure every inch of my face is scrubbed clean before heading back into the hallway and drag the two bodies inside. I pretend to post guard in front of the poker room in their place.
I’m growing impatient for Moretti’s signal, more worried by the minute I missed it. He wouldn’t tell me what the signal would be, just that I couldn't miss it. I’m starting to call bullshit just as all the lights turn off, the gala blanketed in black.
The signal.
Smart fucker—it acts as a cover for me as well. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to find Matteo and kill him if I can’t see. I guess that’s a problem for future Grayson.
Men bickering and loud music assault my ear as I quietly slip inside. I can’t keep track of who’s yelling at who. Moretti was right—I hear five or six guys in here, maybe a server or two.
“Go find out what the fuck is going on!” a man screams. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I would recognize that voice anywhere.
Matteo.
I slowly creep my way towards him, using the wall as a guide. Feet shuffle, and then the door opens—staff members most likely leaving to figure out what’s going on for him.
“I swear, this has never happened before. When I find out who’s behind this, they will be dealt with swiftly and without mercy,” he promises.
The other guys sitting around the poker table with him laugh.
I wonder if it would just be easier to kill them all.
Sure would make it easier on me if I could open fire and then dip.
But I remember Moretti's strict clause in the plan: leave the other fuckers unharmed.
I slide against the wall until it sounds like I’m right behind Matteo and wait. I wait for their guards to go down and the chatter to commence again, and then I strike.
“Don’t make a peep,” I whisper into his ear, pressing my blade to his throat. I can feel his mouth open, so I press the blade harder, feeling a drop of blood drip down my finger. The subtle shake of his head tells me I’ve gotten my point across.
“Good boy,” I coo into his ear. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Listen very carefully, because if you don’t, there will be consequences. Nod again if you understand.” His throat dips with another compliant nod, and my heart thunders at the thrill to come.
“You’re going to come up with an excuse for needing to leave this room.
I don’t care what it is, but you’re going to make it happen.
Then, you’re going to pick up your rotten ass and follow me out of this room without a single peep.
I don’t even want to hear you breathe wrong until we are out of that door. Am I crystal clear?”
He grunts under his breath, and I bring around my other hand to squeeze his throat under my blade. “I said, are. We. Clear?” He nods furiously. “I thought so,” I whisper, tapping his throat to get a move on.
“I—” he coughs, drawing my blade into his throat.
I kick him under the table in warning. “I don’t know what’s taking so long with these lights.
You know how they are. If the man in charge isn’t breathing down their necks, nothing gets done,” he chuckles, shoving his seat back into me.
I move the blade from his throat to his side to let him know I’m still right here, waiting to pounce.
“Worthless pigs, the lot of them,” one of the men chuckles. “I hope you charge in blood.”
“Always. That’s the best currency after all,” Matteo retorts, shuffling towards the door with me at his back. I need this little charade to hurry the fuck up before the lights turn back on.
Matteo is stalling, shuffling towards the door at a snail's pace. He reaches around the dark for the door handle, but, if I’ve done my calculations right, we aren’t anywhere near the door yet.
Just as suspected, his hand connects with something, and then it’s flung in my direction. I instinctually step back to avoid getting smashed as glass explodes on the floor and the smell of alcohol fills the room.
“Danger,” Matteo screams, running towards the door.
All chaos breaks loose.
This is officially worst case scenario. Fucking Matteo. I should have just sliced his throat when I had the chance and been done with it. But my ego had other plans. I wanted to draw out his death, make sure my face was the last thing he saw before I took his life.
I drop into a crouch and work my way towards Matteo, who is stumbling his way to the door, by the sounds of it.
“Who fucking touched me?” a man shouts, firing off his gun.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I stay low to the floor as someone grunts in pain and two more bullets fire off. These men are shooting each other in the dark like lunatics. I stay low, so I should be safe. I mean, who shoots at feet? I crawl around the alcohol cabinet, slicing my palms and knees on glass.